


To Break From Within

by waypoint



Series: Ever Forward [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Post 5x09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waypoint/pseuds/waypoint
Summary: In an attempt to get everything back to normal, Shaw resumes handling numbers with the team.  However, after Root is accused of working for the enemy, Shaw becomes distracted and makes a critical error during a mission, the consequences of which may be fatal.Living in times more uncertain than ever, Shaw must decide if her relationship with Root is worth the risk to them both.





	1. Trouble Lurking

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the best way to learn what someone is truly made of is seeing how they react when both their bodies and hearts are broken. Shaw and Root are both going to be tested, but fear not because it will work out in the end... probably. That being said, I love these girls so very much, and I hope you enjoy the journey we're about to take.
> 
> If you decided to skip part one, all you really need to know is Greer got a hold of information that allows him to speak to Root through her implant and she doesn't yet realize it's not the Machine.

 

 

Greer stood before the Samaritan interface, watching carefully as his assets conducted a very important test. Watching the security feeds, eventually their mark was revealed: a tall brunette by the name of Samantha Groves.

 

Approximately one month ago, Greer's team had acquired information that allowed them to develop a way to communicate with Miss Groves while posing as the Machine. After running several scenarios, it was clear that she had taken the bait.

 

Greer and his team were careful to keep the correspondence familiar, so not to arouse suspicion. It wouldn't make sense for the “Machine” to ask Miss Groves for it's location, or instruct her to kill her teammates. This situation required a special finesse.

 

The current phase of their operation consisted of only simple tasks. Samaritan would ask the interface to deliver something to a specific location, or have her relay information, and then watch to see if she succeeded. Eventually they would move on to have her perform more in depth tasks that involved the rest of her team members. Greer was eager to start that phase.

 

Having unsuccessfully turned Sameen Shaw into an asset, Greer looked to this as a second chance. Given everything they learned about the nature of Shaw's relationship with the interface, he was certain that she was key piece that would finally break her.

 

“Let the games begin.”

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Though she was reluctant, Shaw decided that it was time for her to return to the subway. Having been back from Samaritan's clutches for some time, she determined that it would be relatively safe, especially considering the safe-house apartment hadn't been compromised during her stay.

 

As soon as she stepped down onto the platform, Bear trotted over to say hello. She smiled and leaned down, petting him vigorously. “Hey there, handsome.”

 

He skipped away from her, momentarily disappearing behind a wall, but he quickly reappeared with a mangled bunny slipper in his mouth. Without dropping it, Bear sat in front of Shaw and let out a low 'boof'. She knelt down and took his face in her hands.

 

“That's probably so gross, bud,” she teased, her voice high. She bounced his head up and down, “yes it is.”

 

“Ah, Miss Shaw, there you are,” Harold Finch called from his computer station.

 

Shaw stood and walked towards him, looking around the subway as she went, noting that it wasn't much different than she remembered. In addition to being much warmer, cables now ran across the ceiling, and there were many more computer servers, presumably to help the Machine run effectively, and... a strangely furnished room? She stopped by the entrance.

 

“Finch? What is this?” She gestured inside.

 

“That space served as Miss Groves' quarters while we rebuilt the Machine.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Shaw glanced inside; lava lamp, motorcycle helmet, an ugly bat pillow, and purple. Lots of purple. “Did a blind person decorate?”

 

“Actually she took care of that on her own,” Finch replied, sparing a glance towards the room as well. Shaw raised her eyebrows. “It's a bit of an acquired taste, like Miss Groves herself.”

 

Shaw tilted her head in agreement. Root certainly took some getting used to. Considering that the whole team started out having some kind of violent experience with her, it's amazing how far they've all come.

 

Over the next thirty minutes, Harold helped Shaw get reacquainted with their hideout until John arrived with a small bag in hand.

 

“From Fusco,” he handed Shaw the bag. “He got caught up at the precinct.”

 

Shaw unfolded the note attached and she read it aloud with some difficulty. Lionel's writing was horrendous.

 

“'Dear Short Stack',” she rolled her eyes, “'sorry I couldn't make your welcome home party. Heard your current disguise was boring. Fusco'.”

 

She reached into the bag and pulled out a blue New York Islander's cap. Not her first choice in team, she appreciated the gesture and nodded in thanks.

 

The payphone on the wall began to ring and John walked over to answer it. Harold explained how the Machine had been left as an open system, albeit temporarily, in order to help them better fight the war. For safety purposes, She contacted them directly via the phone in the subway rather than on the streets. Shaw felt some relief at the convenience, she remembered how difficult it was for Root when the Machine had to limit it's contact with her.

 

“I guess that's why It's been talking to Root so much lately. She's been out working numbers like crazy.” Harold gave her a strange look, “what, Finch?”

 

“I realize that Miss Groves has always operated somewhat separate from us...”

 

“But?”

 

“But the last time she told us she was working a case, she murdered a Samaritan doctor, as I'm sure you recall.”

 

Shaw clenched her jaw. She should have expected Finch to bring up Root killing Stuart last month. Ever present on his high-horse, like he didn't tell her and John to kill the men holding Grace if need be. She kept her mouth shut though, not wanting to argue with him on the subject. Root was doing work for the Machine again and that made her happy, she wasn't coming home half dead which made _Shaw_ happy.

 

John strode back over and informed them of their new number, and the team began to fall back into their routine.

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

Their number, Charles Duncan, had an unfortunate gambling problem which resulted in a man being hired to kill him. Considering Mr Duncan was a simple receptionist, there wasn't much he had available in terms of security or protection. Shaw and Reese were able to determine when the hit was taking place, and positioned themselves to intercept it. The correspondence suggested that he would be attacked while in the parking structure at his workplace; security coverage was poor and the neighborhood wasn't the safest. Easy to make it look like a mugging gone wrong.

 

After disabling the security cameras, Shaw waited in her vehicle inside the garage, while Reese watched the street. After a few minutes, she saw her mark enter and walk towards his car.

 

“I've got our boy. Any sign of the hit man?” Shaw asked over the coms.

 

“ _Nothing yet. Wait_ ,” he paused, “ _I see him down the street._ ”

 

Shaw took her cap off and placed it on the dashboard before getting out of her car. Before she had the chance to catch Duncan, black vans came screeching in from the upper floor. She quickly crouched down beside the wheel. They had Duncan surrounded within seconds.

 

“ _Shaw? What's going on?_ ”

 

She tried to get a better view on what was happening; she stuck her head out and saw several men in suits exit the vehicle.

 

“You'll have to come with us, Mr Duncan,” she heard one of the men say. She thought she recognized his voice.

 

“John, you should high-tail it.” She hid beside the car again and considered her options.

 

“ _What is it?_ ”

 

She heard sounds of a scuffle and the firing of a taser. They must have incapacitated Duncan. She then heard the doors to the van slam shut and the engines roar to life.

 

“Oh nothing. Just that I'm pretty sure our number was grabbed by Samaritan.”

 

Shaw crawled around to the back of her car and pressed against the bumper, hoping to remain unseen. She heard the vehicle speed by and waited several minutes before getting up. She looked around the garage and it appeared to be completely empty. John came striding in with his gun drawn.

 

“What happened?” He asked once he reached her.

 

Shaw shrugged and made to enter her vehicle. “No idea, but I'm not sticking around to see if they come back.”

 

John nodded and entered the passenger seat while Shaw put her cap back on and started the car. On the way out, they drove passed the hit man hired to kill Charles Duncan.

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Shaw and Reese returned to the subway and briefed Finch on the situation with their number. They speculated as to why Samaritan would be interested in Duncan, but came up empty. They brainstormed for hours but could not come up with a logical conclusion, considering all their data suggested he was perfectly ordinary; even the Machine offered no insight. Losing the number was unfortunate, but they could at least be grateful that no one was compromised during the mission. Once Shaw realized how much time had passed, she said her goodbyes to the boys and headed out. Finch said he would continue his research and let her know if something else came up.

 

Shaw made her way to Root's apartment rather than return to the safe-house. She entered and saw Root sitting on the edge of the couch dismantling a large sniper rifle, the case on the coffee table in front of her.

 

“Is that my Remy?” Shaw asked.

 

Root turned her head and smiled, “hey sweetie. Hope you don't mind I borrowed this tonight?”

 

“As long as you clean it,” Shaw walked to the couch and sat down, stretching her arms over the back and sighing.

 

“Sadly, I didn't even get to fire it,” Root turned her body to face her.

 

Shaw hummed in response. She saw the pill bottle on the table next to the gun box. “Still getting headaches?”

 

Root nodded, “They're starting to taper off.”

 

“Have you considered getting your implant checked out?”

 

“Too risky. Samaritan is probably monitoring otolaryngologists in the area hoping I might slip up.”

 

The only reason they even knew about the implant was because Shaw told them. She averted her gaze.

 

Root bumped her knee into Shaw's, “don't worry about it, Sameen. Tell me about the case today.”

 

Shaw told her about their number, the boring guy down on his luck. And how it she and Reese were minutes away from rescuing him until Greer's men showed up. Root was surprised to hear that they lost the number to Samaritan and relieved that her and John made it out unscathed.

 

“I would have been by sooner, but Harold wanted to go over _every single_ detail on this one. Trying to figure out where we went wrong, I guess,” Shaw leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

 

“That's okay, I just got in myself,” Root put her hand on Shaw's thigh, “go to bed. You'll hurt your neck if you fall asleep like that.”

 

“You didn't seem to care about my neck when you drugged me in this very spot.”

 

Root pat Shaw's leg and stood up, “very funny. Now come on.”

 

“Mmm...” Shaw mumbled, already feeling sleep pulling her down. Root closed the rifle case and walked passed her.

 

Shaw groaned and slowly stood up as well, following Root into the bedroom.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

After dismissing his team for the night, Greer sat in his office and reviewed the data from their recent operation. Samaritan had become interested in a young receptionist with a gambling problem.  It seemed like he was a potential witness to one of Samaritan's operations and though It could have easily tracked and apprehended him, Samaritan chose to send the Machine's interface instead.

 

Greer and his team had contacted Miss Groves through her cochlear implant, advising her to keep tabs on the subject, all the while monitoring her progress. She tracked him for a few days and tonight she was set up on the rooftop of a building while a camera carefully watched. She set up a sniper rifle and kept eyes on their target as he worked in his office, until he made to exit via the parking garage.

  
Samaritan was lucky that the interface was fairy chatty and ran commentary for the duration of her 'mission'. Greer's men received updates in real time when he relayed her observations and the target was successfully captured and brought in. They had deceived the interface by telling her that the target was a rogue Samaritan operative and he may need to be killed for the safety of the public. That way she wouldn't be suspicious when his team captured him. Greer sighed. They could be accomplishing so much more.

 

He addressed the computer, “I grow tired of these games. Our communication channel is already deteriorating. The Machine doesn't take too kindly to us manipulating it's precious interface. I believe we need to take a more aggressive approach with Miss Groves.”

 

Text appeared on screen:

 

WHAT

 

DO

 

YOU

 

SUGGEST?

 

“The Machine's followers have been stronger ever since Miss Shaw returned to them,” Greer began, “Perhaps we can orchestrate a little... incident between Miss Groves and Miss Shaw that will effectively break the team apart from within.”

 

There was a pause, while three dots flashed across the screen, as if Samaritan was considering the suggestion. It generated a response after several seconds:

 

SET

 

COLLISION

 

COURSE.

 


	2. A Dangerous Intersection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold shares concerns regarding Root's behavior. Shaw receives a time sensitive assignment.

 

 

 

Shaw woke up to the sound of her phone ringing on the bedside table. She lifted her head to look over Root's shoulder and saw the clock at 03:29. Shaw sighed but began to untangle herself, removing her arm from Root's waist and gently sliding the other hand out from underneath her head. She grabbed her phone and pressed the green button.

 

“What?” She answered, her voice hoarse.

 

“ _Miss Shaw,_ ” it was Harold, “ _I apologize for waking you_.”

 

She hoped he had a good reason. She sat up and rubbed her face, “Finch, what the hell?”

 

“ _I realize it's early, but I discovered something troubling with regards to our earlier number. I need you to come to the subway immediately._ ”

 

Beside her, Root stirred awake. She sat up as well, and leaned her head against Shaw's shoulder.

 

“Seriously?” Shaw groaned wearily, “what could possibly--”

 

“ _Please_ ,” he interrupted her, “ _I wouldn't ask if it wasn't extremely urgent, Sameen_.”

 

The use of her name and the dire tone to his voice woke her up a little bit. She sighed.

 

“Yeah, all right. I'll be there soon,” she ended the call and tossed her phone back on the nightstand. Root had looped her arms through Shaw's and was holding her close. They sat together for several minutes.

 

“I have an idea,” Root said suddenly, her voice very thick with sleep.

 

“Shoot,” she leaned into Root.

 

“Hear me out. What if...” a long pause followed. For a moment Shaw thought she had fallen back asleep, “you _don't_ go?”

 

Great plan. Shaw rolled her eyes and snaked her arm free from Root's grasp. Shaw could hear her grumbling as she guided her back to lying down, her eyes already shut.

 

“Go back to sleep. I'm sure it wont take long.”

 

Root hummed and nestled back down, “okay, honey. Be careful.”

 

Shaw looked to Root's resting form, so warm and inviting... she shook her head. Finch better have a _damn_ _good_ reason for calling her in.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Shaw made the trip to the subway within an thirty minutes, making sure to stick to the shadow map and protect her identity with the Fusco's hat. She strode into the hideout with purpose, anxious to learn what was so important.

 

“Harold?” She spotted him at the computer station pacing back and forth, his suit jacket draped over his chair.

 

“Sameen, thank goodness.”

 

“What was so urgent that couldn't wait until the sun was up?” She walked up to the desk and sat on the top, facing Finch. He sat down as well and regarded her.

 

“Like I said, I found something quite worrisome, but it is... somewhat difficult to approach,” he began, adjusting his glasses.

 

“Out with it, professor, before I change my mind and get the hell out of here.”

 

He told her that he was researching the number again, trying to figure out where they could have went wrong, or why Samaritan wanted him. He discovered that Charles Duncan was apparently present when Samaritan stole sensitive information from his workplace. Having witnessed one of their operations, Duncan would have instantly become a liability once they realized what he saw. Shaw tried to encourage him to get to the reason she needed to hear this _at four in the morning_ when he mentioned having security footage from the building across from the parking garage where Duncan was taken. He contacted her immediately after viewing it. Shaw stepped down from the desk and faced his computer screen.

 

“Well? Let's see it,” she crossed her arms. He queued up the footage, but hesitated before pressing play. She sighed loudly and pressed the button herself.

 

On screen was the dark and grainy image from the rooftop. She could just make out the garage in the distance where she and Reese lost Duncan. Scanning for anything unusual, Shaw noticed a figure stationed near the edge of the roof.

 

"There's a person up there," she pointed to the screen.

 

Shaw noticed Finch swallow before replying, “keep watching, Miss Shaw.”

 

He was definitely nervous. She continued to watch as the figure moved to stand up, lifting a sniper rifle over their shoulder. Shaw leaned in as they turned to face the camera, but she recoiled when they stepped into the light, immediately reaching to pause the play-back.

 

“What is this?” She demanded, but didn't take her eyes off the screen, “Root was watching our number?  Why?”

 

“I was hoping you would have the answer.”

 

She shook her head. Root only mentioned borrowing her rifle and doing some recon for the Machine. Shaw hadn't asked for the details, but if Root knew their missions intersected, she definitely would have brought it up.

 

“Is this what has you so worked up?” She stepped away from the computer, Finch turned in his seat to watch her. “There's obviously a good reason why she was out there.”

 

“Perhaps,” he didn't sound convinced.

 

“But you clearly have another theory,” Shaw supplied. Finch looked at her for several seconds before responding. She could tell he was trying to carefully choose his words.

 

“Is it possible that Miss Groves was reporting to---”

 

“Harold,” Shaw held her hand out and cut him off, appalled by his suggestion. “Not a chance in hell.”

 

He stood up and regarded her, “I know how deeply you care for her, but consider her actions of late: she took you to retrieve a computer which resulted in an ambush and you being shot. She hunted down and murdered a doctor without telling anyone. In fact, she told us she was doing a mission for the Machine.”

 

She doesn't look at him, “what does John think about this?”

 

“He advised me to speak with you first.”

 

“Harold... fuck,” she began to pace again, “think about what you're saying. Root working for Samaritan?”

 

“I'm not suggesting that she's working for them. For all we know they may be manipulating or threatening her somehow. It's no secret that she would do anything to protect you.” Shaw clenched her jaw, “for weeks she's been telling us that she's doing errands for the Machine, yet we have nothing to support that as being the truth.”

 

“When have we _ever_ had proof of that?” She raised her voice, this whole conversation was becoming infuriating. “You said it yourself, she operates outside of us most of the time.”

 

“All I'm suggesting is that you confront Miss Groves.”

 

“You want _me_ to talk to her?” Shaw could have laughed. Almost. “Not happening. I actually trust her.”

 

“Safety needs to be our first priority, Miss Shaw. For us, and the Machine.”

 

“If your Machine is so fucking smart, why don't you ask it if Root's a traitor?” She gestured to the train car. “Christ, I can't believe we're having this conversation.”

 

“I'm sure it's as you said; there is a reasonable explanation. I am simply being cautious.”

 

“You're simply being a prick.”

 

“Insulting me is not the way to resolve this, Miss Shaw.” He crossed his arms.

 

She took a step towards him, “you know what, Finch? I'm sick of--” her words were cut off by the pay phone ringing on the wall. She didn't move, and maintained eye contact with Finch. On the third ring, he finally moved to answer it, leaving her seething in place.

 

A minute later, he returned to stand in front of her. “We'll have to continue this conversation later. The Machine has a pressing assignment for us.”

 

“You can't be serious.”

 

“Someone's life could be in danger. The Machine advised me that an incident would be occurring at the pier very shortly. Though She was somewhat vague, the urgency was clear.”

 

“Oh, the Machine was being vague? Maybe it's working for Samaritan,” she bit back.

 

“Miss Shaw, please,” he sighed.

 

Shaw stared at him for a moment before scoffing. “Send the directions to my phone. I'll let you know when I get there,” she turned to leave, still fuming, but determined to quickly handle whatever emergency came up before clearing this mess up.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

After arriving at the docks, Shaw decided to touch base with Root before scouting the perimeter. She couldn't stop thinking about what Harold suggested (and how stupid it was). She tapped her earpiece, intending to leave a message for Root, but was surprised when she answered.

 

“ _Hey Sam, all done in the principal's office?_ ” She was cheerful, definitely more awake than before.

 

“Almost... apparently something came up elsewhere.” Shaw removed her hat and exited the vehicle.

 

“ _The Machine contacted me right after you left. When you're done we should meet back at my place and you can tell me all about your chat with Harold. I'll even make breakfast._ ”

 

“Last time you offered to make me breakfast, you drugged me _and_ you didn't end up making anything.”  She grumbled the last part under her breath.

 

She could almost hear Root smirking, “ _as I recall, you got something much better that night_.”

 

Shaw sighed pinched the bridge of her nose, “I don't even know why I bothered to call you.”

 

“ _Yes you do,_ ” she began, her tone teasing and flirtatious, “ _you_ _just wanted to hear the beautiful sound of my voice. There's no need to be coy anymore, Shaw._ ”

 

Shaw groaned. Though she indeed found her voice to be quite captivating; the way she said her name sometimes sent her insides fluttering and... well, Root really didn't need to know any of that. “I'm hanging up now,” Shaw clicked off her earpiece and drew her gun.

 

She considered the interaction and mentally compared it to the conversations she had leading up to Stuart's death. There was a sincerity present now that was definitely lacking when Root was hiding something. She concluded that Harold was wrong: Root wasn't deceiving them.

 

Shaw tapped her earpiece again, letting Finch know she had arrived.

 

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

 

Root practically skipped along the pier. She was always amazed at how a simple conversation with Shaw could set her heart aflutter. She was so looking forward to sharing a meal with her today once she was done. The Machine had contacted her just after Shaw had left to see Harold, saying that there was a potentially 'dangerous incident' soon to occur by the waterfront. Details were sparse as of late, but Root could safely assume it was either a drug deal about to go wrong, or even another rogue Samaritan operative with some information they may be able to use.

 

“So, where is our mystery man?” She said aloud, drawing her gun.

 

She was answered with static radiating from her implant, filling her skull with a discomfort she was now used to. Lately when the Machine tried to contact her, all the messages began with some kind of noise or interference. She knew the Machine had reservations about talking to her, perhaps this was why.

 

“ _I apologize for the static,_ ” The Machine replied, “ _speaking with you has been challenging as of late._ ”

 

“Challenging?”

 

“ _Yes. I believe our enemy may be trying to interfere with our communication._ ”

 

She stopped walking, “are you in danger?”

 

“ _I will be safe as long as you're with me, my dear_.”

 

Root smiled, but found the way the Machine addressed her curious. This wasn't the first time their communication felt off-script, either. She was about to ask when she saw a man carrying a large duffle bag sneaking around.

 

“ _There is your target. Eliminate him at once._ ”

 

She raised her gun, but hesitated. Eliminate? For starters, the Machine typically preferred Root to make her own choices with how to handle things, but this sounded an awful lot like she was being _ordered_ to do something... to kill someone. In addition, She would normally provide her with every possible detail regarding the person, not just 'there he is, shoot him'. It didn't feel right. In fact, this whole situation was feeling somewhat off.

 

Rather than aim for the 'target', she pointed her gun upwards and fired causing the man to drop his bag, startled. He noticed her across the pier and raised his hands. She jerked her head to the side, telling him to run and he complied.

 

Root began to head back towards her vehicle, gun still in hand when she thought she heard a noise. She pressed her back against a shipping container.

 

“ _What is it_?”

 

“I heard something. Is there anyone else here?”

 

“ _No,_ ” the Machine responded quickly. “ _I am monitoring the area. It's safe to cross the construction site, but you must hurry. Authorities are on the way. Our perpetrator must have contacted him, since you let him go._ ”

 

Was the Machine giving her attitude? Something was definitely wrong here. She was going to have to talk with Harold later about debugging the program. Maybe Shaw was right about needing to get her implant checked out, too.  There remained a nagging in her stomach telling her to remain cautious.  She raised her gun and carefully stepped out from cover.  “You're the boss.”

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

Harold sat inside the train car and carefully monitored Shaw's location as she arrived at the pier. In addition, he had Reese on standby just in case she needed assistance. He wasn't pleased with how their earlier conversation went; he didn't intend to accuse Root of anything, but he couldn't help be wary of her recent actions. Hopefully once Shaw was finished they could all discuss the matter reasonably.

 

When the Machine phoned, She anticipated that someone was going to be in danger and requested back up. Harold wondered why the Machine didn't give specifics, considering the system was still open. Perhaps this number caused a small hiccup in the program.

 

The digital map showed Shaw sweeping the shipping field for any signs of trouble. The area appeared to be undergoing some construction which may have posed a challenge if Miss Shaw wasn't so capable. Harold requested they keep an open com line and Shaw agreed, though she wasn't talkative. He tracked additional movement somewhere in front of her, but before he could mention it, a gunshot sounded through the line.

 

“Everything all right?”

 

“ _Just dandy, Finch._ ” She still sounded annoyed, “ _It came from up ahead, I'm going to check it out now._ ”

 

He had each security feed playing on a different monitor. Though the coverage was thin, he could see Shaw moving from one screen to the other. Suddenly one of the displays went black and filled with text:

 

FATHER, the Machine wrote, ANALOG INTERFACE IN DANGER. PROBABILITY OF CRITICAL INJURY: 93.4%

 

He turned to face the monitor, eyes wide.  Ninety-three percent?  “Where is she?”

 

PIER.

 

The pier?  Shaw was at the pier too. Odd that she didn't mention they went together. Miss Groves would be safe, surely. Unless...

 

Finch turned to the security footage again and saw Shaw with her gun raised. He looked to a different feed, his heart quickening, and saw someone else step out into view.

 

Harold stood up, causing his chair to tumble behind him.

 

“Miss Shaw! _Stop_!”

 

But two shots had already echoed through the speakers.

 


	3. Too Close for Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw attempts to deal with the fallout of her actions. Elsewhere, Greer plans his final move against Root.

 

 

Shaw made her way to the shipping area on the pier, so far not seeing signs of a struggle or any kind of danger. She kept her gun drawn and scanned for threats, thankful that Finch wasn't trying to make conversation with her. She thought she saw movement in the distance and though it was dark and she couldn't be sure, she slowed her pace down and kept against a shipping container. Her conversation with Finch kept playing in her mind, taking her focus from the task. A gunshot rang out in the distance, bringing her back to the present.

 

“ _Everything all right?_ ” Harold asked through her earpiece.

 

“Just dandy, Finch,” she wished he had something else to do besides run commentary. “It came from up ahead, I'm going to check it out now.”

 

She saw a shadow moving and ducked behind a forklift. She could see metal reflecting as the person moved across the construction yard. While they kept to the shadows, Shaw recognized it as a gun. She stretched her arm out and fired without looking. Shaw couldn't be sure of a hit but she distinctly heard something clatter to the ground. The gun, she assumed. She stepped out from cover and shot the perp a second time for good measure, this time aiming for usual kneecap, when she heard Finch shouting in her ear.

 

“ _Miss Shaw! Stop!_ ”

 

The person fell to the ground and Shaw slowly stepped forward.

 

“What's your problem now, professor?”

 

“ _It's Root!_ ” He sounded frightened.

 

Root? “What happened?”

 

“ _I believe you just shot her!_ ”

 

Shaw stopped in her tracks. That was... impossible. Root was on her own mission somewhere else.

 

She was closer to her victim and thereby able to see them with clearer detail. Dread filled her bones. There was familiarity with all of it; their body shape, hair, even the pained sounds being uttered...

 

Shaw closed the distance and threw herself to the ground beside the person, discarding her weapon. She grabbed their shoulder and rolled so they were lying on their back. Even in darkness, it was so very clear: She _had_ shot Root.

 

Panic gripped her body like a cold hand. Having spent what felt like an eternity trapped in the simulations, she could still remember each time she pointed the gun at Root and what it was like to almost lose all control and pull the trigger. But her will was strong enough and instead she turned the gun on herself, always herself.  Every single time.  What was different now?  Her mind was feeling stronger than ever as of late, how could this have happened?  How did Shaw _let_ this happen.

 

Shaw shook her head, trying to stave off her spiraling thoughts. She needed to focus on how to help her. Root's breathing was pained and her eyes unfocused, perhaps disoriented from hitting her head as she fell.

 

“Root, God damn it. What the _hell_ are you doing here?!” Shaw shed her coat and covered Root, cautious about her going into shock. She placed her hands over the wound on her abdomen, Shaw's first shot, and pushed her weight down upon it. Root groaned loudly, Shaw could see that her teeth were stained red. “Fuck.”

 

“Shaw,” Root gasped weakly, eyes finally focusing.

 

“Shut _up_ ,” even in darkness, she could see the blood seeping through her fingers. “Finch, you need to send someone here, now.”

 

She couldn't hear his reply for her heart was pounding so loud. She lifted her hands and quickly removed her belt, looping it above Root's knee and pulling it as hard as she could, hoping to control the bleeding in that area as well. Root writhed and groaned beneath her as she resumed pressure on her torso. Root was losing so much blood and there wasn't much she could do about it.

 

Numbness was radiating from her chest outwards, threatening to paralyze her whole body. She felt Root grab onto her arm, making a fist with the fabric of her sweater. Shaw looked to her, Root was searching her eyes for something. An explanation? Comfort? Shaw couldn't read it, her senses felt fried as all she tried to do was control the bleeding.

 

“Sameen,” she whimpered; the sound felt like a pin in Shaw's heart.

 

“Root, just...” she let out a ragged breath, creating a puff of steam in the cool night air. “You're going to be fine.”

 

Shaw had struggled with reality for many months after returning from Samaritan.  In the last few weeks, she was beginning to feel like she was on solid ground again. She doesn't even recall the last time she checked for a chip in her skull. Root bleeding out beneath her was shattering the foundation she had been building in her mind. Over 7,000 simulations spent preventing this very thing from happening could all be gone because...

 

Root must have sensed the inner turmoil, and reached her hand up to cup Shaw's face. Root ran her thumb across her cheek, catching a tear Shaw didn't realize escaped.

 

“Hang in there, sweetie...” Root muttered. Her breathing was so shallow, skin pale, eyes watery. Shaw shook her head again attempting to clear the fog.

 

“Root, I didn't know. I--” Shaw stammered, her throat tight. She felt like she was suffocating.

 

“It's okay.”

 

Root placed her hand over Shaw's and smiled. Even lying here in the dark, bloody and mortally wounded, her smile took Shaw's breath away. She looked into Root's eyes and could see their light fading. Through gritted teeth, Shaw whispered: “Don't you dare leave me.”

 

Shaw was just about to ask Finch where their backup was when she heard the screeching of tires behind her. Unsure, she picked her gun up from the ground and pointed it at the van, still keeping one hand on Root. A young man stepped out, duffle bag in one hand, the other raised.

 

“Sam? Harold sent me. I'm here to help.”

 

As he came closer, she saw he was wearing a paramedic uniform. She lowered her weapon and told him what happened. He went to his van for a stretcher and when he returned they secured Root and lifted her up. Once she was in the van, the paramedic activated his sirens and drove from the pier as fast as he could. Shaw stayed in the back and watched as Root slowly lost consciousness.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

After arriving at the hospital, the doctors rushed Root into surgery. Shaw sat nearby with her eyes trained forward, almost in a trance. She didn't know how much time passed until she felt someone sit down beside her.

 

“How you holding up, Sam?” A too-cheerful voice pierced her skull. It was the EMT, who she learned was the same number Reese had saved a several weeks ago.

 

She didn't answer him. His hipster blonde haircut and charming smile was too much for her to deal with right now. Her eyes stayed ahead.

 

“John said you'd be upset. 'Ol Johnny boy. Told me to keep an eye on you. He's, oh,” he interrupted himself, “John's right over there.”

 

Before standing up, he put his arm around Shaw's shoulder and squeezed. She could have killed him for it. “She'll be fine, c'mon. You crazy kids have been through way worse, right?”

 

He finally got up. John met him standing just in Shaw's peripheral vision. They shook hands.

 

“Thanks for helping us, Pat.” The EMT nodded and walked away.

 

Reese took his seat next to Shaw and they sat together for a few minutes. He silently offered her the blue cap, which she accepted and pulled low over her face.

 

“Shaw, what happened out there?” He asked. His voice sounded weary and thick with worry.

 

That was something she was still trying to figure out. She sighed and held her head in her hands, the blood covering them now dry, and Reese didn't ask any more questions.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Hours passed before Finch arrived at the hospital. Reese was walking back and forth and Shaw was still sitting in the same spot, leaning forward and staring at the ground. Uneven steps approached her.

 

“Sameen,” his hand covered her shoulder for a moment before he drew it back. "I owe you an apology."

 

Finch told her that the Machine warned him that Root was in danger. After she was taken to the hospital, he finally just asked Her to share some of the missions she's been doing lately. Apparently the Machine hasn't been able to reach Root, that there was some kind of interference with the implant.

 

“What are you saying?” Shaw spoke finally, her voice hard.

 

“Whoever, or whatever, has been talking to Miss Groves, it isn't the Machine.”

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Greer and his men have been unable to send a signal to the Machine's interface since he set her and Miss Shaw on an intercept course at the pier. They monitored the video and watched with delight as Shaw appeared to mortally wounded Miss Groves. Unfortunately, their feed was cut off and they've been unable to restore it. Greer sent men to investigate the scene, but all they found was a gun, blood, and tire tracks.

 

“Shall we send agents to nearby hospitals?” Zachary asked.

 

“That didn't work well last time, now did it?” Greer replied, “no, I think we've done all we can. Our communication link has deteriorated to near irrelevancy, but we have accomplished our goal.”

 

“Sir?”

 

Greer smiled, “Miss Shaw was the one who pulled the trigger. This will be the blow that finally breaks her. Imagine spending months trying to protect your loved ones, only to be the cause of their demise in the end. ” He shook his head, almost wistfully, “My dear Sameen, If only you had agreed to join us... Nevertheless, I predict the guilt may be too much for her to bear, especially if her beloved doesn't survive.”

 

Samaritan decided to weigh in on the situation, it's interface blinking with text.

 

LEAVE

 

NOTHING

 

TO

 

CHANCE.

 

He raised an eyebrow at the screen, “you have something in mind?”

 

The response appeared quickly, as if It had been considering this for some time.

 

OVERLOAD

 

HER

 

IMPLANT.

 

Greer nodded. He rather enjoyed Samaritan's more aggressive side. He very much looked forward to the day when Miss Groves was no longer apart of the equation, and now that day had finally arrived. She was a constant thorn in the side of their entire operation; fluid in her identity and her skills, always posing a threat and somehow an inch ahead of them. To think that such a flawed human would be an opposition to a benevolent AI... add Miss Shaw to the mixture and the threat they posed together was very troubling indeed.

 

“As you wish.”

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

It felt like days had gone by before a doctor came out to stand before Shaw and Reese.

 

“You two here with detective Ginsburg?”

 

Shaw didn't recognize the name, but Reese apparently did. He stood to address the doctor, “is she okay?”

 

“She's alive, though she remains in critical condition.” The doctor began, “the bullet took some time to remove because it nicked the liver when it entered her abdomen. The surgery was difficult on her body, especially given her arrhythmia. The next few hours are crucial in her recovery.”

 

Shaw stood and shared a look with Reese. The doctor's tone was hesitant. They waited for him to continue.

 

“The wound to her knee was quite extreme. We repaired the damage as best we could, but we wont really know what her mobility is going to be like until she wakes up. She's in intensive care 216.” Shaw blinked and set her gaze towards the doors, “If she comes to when you're with her, try not to upset her in any way. Like I said, her condition isn't completely stable yet.”

 

Reese thanked the doctor for the update as he walked away. He turned to Shaw, his eyes sympathetic and concerned. She often forgot how he and Root became b.f.f's in her absence. She still found it somewhat strange.

 

“She's alive. That's all that matters.”

 

She didn't look at him, “whatever you say, detective.”

 

Reese took her arm and shook it hard to get her attention. “This is not your fault.”

 

“Except it is. I'm the one who shot her,” her voice had taken on a level monotone; empty, like what she felt inside. Not her usual emptiness, though. This felt thicker, heavier.

 

“You made a mistake. Beating yourself up isn't going to help her right now.”

 

Shaw wrenched her arm free, speaking through gritted teeth, “she might not be able to walk, _Riley_.”

 

“Stop,” he ordered sternly. “I know you would never intentionally hurt Root. She does, too.”

 

Together they walked through the intensive care unit until reaching room 216. Shaw took a deep breath and grabbed the handle, but paused before pushing it open.

 

“What is it?”

 

She released the handle and stepped back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I can't go in there.”

 

He nodded and didn't ask her to explain. He understood not wanting to see her current condition. Reese stepped forward and opened the door slightly before turning back.

 

“I'll stay with her.”

 

She nodded and watched him step inside, the door slowly closing behind him. When it finally shut, Shaw let out a breath she didn't notice was being held in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, and sorry about the mess! A happy(ish?) ending is on the horizon.
> 
> Fun fact: Pat the EMT is based off a friend from school. I used to call him Mr Social Butterfly and he's currently studying to be a paramedic for real. Great guy although he has an extremely loud personality, lol.


	4. Understanding Diaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root has a difficult start to her recovery. Shaw, riddled with guilt, wants to create space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway there, enjoy!

 

 

 

Root struggled to open her eyes and blink the fogginess from her vision. Her whole body felt heavy and her breathing was muffled by the oxygen mask secured to her face. The right side of her body was tingling with soreness, and her head felt like it was filled with cotton. Unfamiliar surroundings, bright lights, numbness in her body. Previous experience was telling her that she was probably in a bad situation. She turned her head towards the door and saw a tall black-clad figure standing by. When they noticed she was awake, they stepped forward and sat in the chair next to her bed. She eventually recognized him when he came into focus.

 

“Rest,” Reese said, “you're safe.”

 

She had so many questions about what happened, but she couldn't fight the exhaustion. She trusted John to look out for her, and allowed herself to fall unconscious.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

Root woke again sometime later feeling just as groggy as before, however her medication must have been wearing down because she could keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds. As well, she felt a burning sensation radiating from her torso and leg. She slowly brought her hand to her face and pulled off the oxygen mask.

 

“John,” she managed weakly. He appeared to her left and sat down again, holding what looked like her chart in his hand. He handed her a cup to drink from. It helped to sooth some of the roughness from her throat. “How bad?”

 

He flipped through some of the pages, as if unsure where to begin. “They had difficulty with your surgery. The bullet struck an organ when you were hit. And they plan on prescribing you medication for your heart.”

 

She nodded and squirmed in her bed, “and the part you aren't telling me?” Reese glanced around, and Root saw his gaze fall on her legs for several seconds. She looked down and raised her eyebrows when she saw her right knee was heavily bandaged and elevated. “Did someone kneecap me? Huh.”

 

“Root, this is serious.”

 

“I'll say. Since when did anyone besides us go for the knees?”

 

Reese was hesitating, clearly there was more to this story than he was sharing. She looked around and found it curious that only he was in the room with her. “No offense, but I was hoping my nurse would be a little smaller and a different kind of grumpy. Where is Shaw?”

 

He met her eyes, but didn't answer. “John? Is Shaw hurt?” She tried to sit up more and hissed, sharp pain bursting from her side.

 

“Don't try to move,” Reese held out his hand until she eased back down. “Shaw's outside.”

 

Root waited until her breathing evened out before replying. “Outside?”

 

“She's... dealing with something right now.”

 

That could mean anything. “She's okay though, right?”

 

“Physically, yes.”

 

John's avoidance of her question was getting on her nerves, she huffed out a breath. “John, tell me what's going on before I get up and ask her myself.”

 

He looked into her eyes for several seconds before answering. “Shaw is the one who shot you.”

 

Root figured she must have hit her head pretty hard to have understood what Reese just said. _Shaw_ shot her? Impossible. For all her threats of that very act, they were always empty. But when he didn't elaborate, she began to consider that what he said was true. She remembered being at the pier, shooting her gun and walking in the dark. Followed by two intense bursts of pain and... Root furrowed her brow. He was right.

 

Reese explained that Root was being manipulated into thinking that the Machine was speaking with her again. And that Harold had confronted Shaw about her so called 'missions' before she was sent to the pier as well. Shaw clearly didn't know Root was out there and fired on her assuming that she was a perpetrator. In Root's eyes, it was a mistake that anyone might have made, given how dark it was. But she knew that Shaw would see it differently, thinking that the incident was her fault.  Especially given everything she endured while with Samaritan.  Root wasn't without blame in this situation; she should have known something wasn't right with the Machine, but choose to follow without question as always.

 

“Do we know who was posing as the Machine?”

 

“Finch is back at the subway looking into it. In the meantime, don't listen to anything that comes through your implant. If they contact you again, tell me right away.”

 

Root nodded. She held the edges of the blanket in her hands and began to fidget, twisting the fabric between her fingers. She looked down at her leg, trying to move her toes, but there wasn't much of a response. The gravity of her situation was beginning to sink in, combined with the fading medication was suffocating her. She let out a shaky breath, trying to keep her emotions under control.

 

Reese spoke up again, “I see the black nail polish isn't going to waste.” He nodded somewhat awkwardly to her exposed toe with perfectly lacquered nails. Perhaps he was trying to distract her. She smiled weakly and nodded.

 

Root wasn't able to paint her fingernails much since Samaritan came online, the fear being that It would be able to recognize the pattern. The polish was a personal touch to all her cover identities that she didn't realize would be missed so much. She'd be damned if an all-seeing AI would stop her from getting a pedicure, though.

 

She paused for a moment and sighed, tears filling her eyes to the brim. “I wish Shaw was here.”

 

He nodded, “I know. She needs to make sense of what happened, give her some time.”

 

She hoped he was right.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

 

As soon as the door to Root's room opened again, Shaw was on her feet. “Well?”

 

He gave her a look, “she asked for you.” Shaw didn't respond. She wasn't sure how to. “All things considered, she's all right. I don't know if she realizes how seriously she was hurt.”

 

Shaw clenched her jaw. How seriously _she_ hurt Root. “That sounds about right.”

 

John suggested she go sit with her, at least while she was sleeping, but Shaw still refused. Not quite ready yet to see the damage she had done, she chose to remain outside her room while John headed back to the subway. It had been a pretty long night for everyone.

 

Shaw couldn't rest. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Root lying beneath her, slowly fading away, yet still smiling up at her. The helplessness she felt made her hands numb. She wasn't sure she'd ever sleep again with that image stuck in her mind.

 

Keeping her eyes trained on the door separating her from Root, she tried to will herself to calm down. The hustle and bustle of the hospital was helping to lull her mind somewhat, all the different sounds creating it's own form of white noise.

 

However, a new sound permeated through her mind like bullet: someone was screaming. Shrill and sudden, Shaw was on her feet in an instant searching for the source. Praying she was mistaken, Shaw quickly crossed to the door marked 216 and placed her ear against it. Her heart sank when she realized that Root was indeed the source of the noise.

 

She immediately drove herself through the door, calling out to Root. She was doubled over in her bed while the surrounding monitors blared loudly in alarm. She had both hands covering the right side of her head, blood had soaked through her gown and her exposed leg stuck out, stabilized at the knee. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she continued to cry out.

 

Shaw swallowed hard before closing the distance and sitting on the bed. As Shaw suspected, her appearance was difficult to take in. She grabbed Root's shoulders trying to get her to stop thrashing around. “Root!”

 

Root lifted her head up and opened her eyes, though it seemed to require great effort. They were frantic and somewhat glassy. She gasped for breath while still holding her hands tight against her head. “ _Shaw._ ”

 

She reached out and clung to Shaw's arms, nails digging into the flesh. She was in terrible pain, and her reaction was a good indication of just how much. Root's tolerance was normally pretty high, higher than some of Shaw's fellow Marines, but this was something much more intense. Shaw desperately needed to find the cause; blood was beginning to drip down from what she assumed was the soiled bandage on Root's side.

 

Suddenly she screamed again, her right hand lifting back up to cover her ear. Her head fell forward against Shaw's chest, “My head...” she managed through clenched teeth.

 

Shaw held tightly onto her and reached her palm up to hold the right side of Root's head. Her cochlear implant was overloading with such intensity that Shaw could feel a slight vibration through Root's skull. “What the _hell_?”

 

Finally the doors to her room opened again and two doctors entered in response to the alarm. Shaw recognized the one from earlier today.

 

“What's going on?!”

 

“Listen, something is wrong with her cochlear implant. It needs to be removed _now._ ” Shaw said, her voice commanding.

 

They regarded her with a curious expression at first but quickly got to work. One began to prepare Root's bed for movement, and the other was injecting something into the IV drip. A sedative, she hoped.

 

Root fought for breath for a few seconds before it began to even out, the morphine thankfully taking it's hold. She lifted her head up and met Shaw's eyes briefly, the vice grip on her arms slacking. “Sameen...”

 

Shaw held her gaze, watching as Root's beautiful brown eyes were clouded with agony and fear. Eventually, they fluttered closed and her body went limp against Shaw's. She gingerly laid her back down and stood from the bed, the doctors waiting.

 

“Get her out of here.”

 

She stepped aside as they wheeled her away, her legs carrying her to slowly follow. She found herself standing in the hallway as they took her out of sight. The hospital noise blurred together once again, though she felt like Root's screams were still in the air, haunting her. The empty feeling in her body hadn't gone away, in fact the void had grown in the last few hours. She wasn't sure how much longer she could handle it.

 

Shaw reached up and touched behind her ear. It was smooth.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Once Root returned from the OR, Shaw decided to stay at her side for the time being. The earlier incident with her implant left a tremble in her hands. She was surprised when Harold walked in, they hadn't really spoke since he accused Root of working with the enemy.

 

“Mr Reese updated me on her condition,” he began, moving to stand by her bed. Shaw remained leaning by the window. “You must be so relieved.”

 

She kept her gaze forwards, “you any closer to finding out who got into her head?”

 

“We're still looking into it, however, the Machine and I did manage to secure a new cochlear implant for Miss Groves. Complete with a chip that we've fully integrated into the mesh network. I'm working on having it run a rotating communication key as well.”

 

“In English?”

 

“The communication path is constantly changing, making it impossible for an incident like this to happen ever again.”

 

“The sooner the better, the doctors just removed her implant.”

 

“They removed it? Why?”

 

“It was completely overloading. I've never seen anything like it. She... she was in a lot of pain.” Shaw said the last part quietly.

 

“That is troubling indeed. Lucky you were nearby.”

 

Shaw nodded. She and Harold sat for sometime before he spoke again, the air still somewhat tense between them.

 

“Miss Shaw, let me say again how sorry I am that--”

 

“Save it, Finch,” she interrupted. “I'm tired of hearing how sorry everyone is. Can we just focus on nailing the bastard who caused this whole mess?”

 

Harold must have realized that arguing further would be futile. He nodded his head, giving one final glance to Root, and left the room.

 

She sat at Root's left side until she stirred some time later.

 

“You're here,” Root breathed.

 

The statement came out so pure and loving that Shaw was at a loss for words. She simply gave a small nod, and Root held her gaze. Glancing around the room, she tried to get her bearings and her eyes fell upon the Islanders hat hanging by the door.

 

“That yours?”

 

Shaw looked to the cap, “a gift from Lionel. He thought my disguise needed more color.”

 

“Doesn't he know you're more of a Blues girl?”

 

“He's been trying to convert me for years now. You know how stubborn he is.”

 

Root smiled. Shaw was distracted by the ease of their conversation. After allowing a small smile of her own, her expression turned serious.

 

“Root, what happened with your implant?”

 

Root reached a hand up and touched the fresh bandage behind her ear. It must be disorienting for her to be without hearing again. “I... don't know. I heard this shrieking in my skull and like my implant started pounding like a jackhammer. Next thing I know, you were calling to me and I guess I lost consciousness.”

 

Shaw could hardly bring herself to look at Root, or her injured form, and looked towards the window. “About the pier...”

 

“You don't have to explain. The big lug filled me in.”

 

“I'm the one that did this to you.” She said anyway. She needed to admit it out loud.

 

“Shaw,” Root replied somewhat sternly. She must have understood exactly where Shaw's mind was at, “it's okay, really. I'll be back on my feet in no time.  Well, sort of.”

 

Shaw didn't appreciate Root flippancy about the situation. “Do you even understand what this means? A shattered knee isn't something you can bounce back from.”

 

“I'm sure the Machine will figure something out for me.”

 

“Like it figured out that I was about to kill you yesterday?”

 

“Sameen...”

 

Shaw stood from her seat, frustrated with this conversation, and herself. The question of who orchestrated this still clawed at her. Root apparently had the answer.

 

“I think I know who did this,” she claimed suddenly, “Greer.”

 

The thought had crossed her mind, but sending Root on pointless assignments didn't seem big enough for the old man. Why not just tell her to kill everyone, or reveal some crucial information? It's not like Root ever questioned the Machine's orders.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

Root explained that the Machine had a certain way of speaking with her, some of the particular mannerisms normally used had been absent of late. Information didn't come as regularly and everything just felt... off. Since she and Harold rebooted Her, things haven't been completely smooth, which is why Root ignored it, to Shaw's dismay. Until she was shot at the pier, Root really had no reason not to believe it wasn't the Machine speaking with her. Though the question remained:

 

“Why would Samaritan use this opportunity just to try and get me to kill you?  It seems like a waste, no offense.”

 

“Samaritan held you for over nine months trying to get you to turn on us, I suppose it wanted another shot at achieving that. For real this time.” Root shrugged, “it's bitter that you kept beating it. Greer should know by now never to bet against you.”

 

Though Root was trying to add levity, Shaw felt knots twisting inside of her. She defeated Samaritan thousands of times by turning the gun on herself. It made sense that they would try to control her actions in the real world. She was sick to her stomach from being deceived in such a way. Even more so that it was Greer who manipulated her into doing it.  Anger bubbled so close to the surface she felt suffocated.  She shook her head, turned towards the door and pulled the handle.

 

“Sameen?” Root was startled by Shaw's sudden dash for the exit.

 

“I'm going to get some air.”

 

Root nodded slowly, worry crossing her face. “Please don't be long. I need you.”

 

Shaw waited a beat, then opened the door and stepped through. She didn't look back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:  
> -Chapters six and seven were written *before* four and five.  
> -Originally there was a part where Root tried to remove the implant herself with a scalpel. It was done and ready to go but I scrapped it last minute in favor of it being overloaded.  
> -Cochlear implants _probably_ can't malfunction to the point where they actually vibrate, haha. That would be insane!  
>  -I went back and forth picking Shaw's preferred NHL team. I decided on the Blues because of that time she mentioned St.Louis having good steak.  
> Thanks for sticking around!


	5. The Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw makes a promise. Elsewhere, Root struggles with her predicament.

 

 

Shaw did not return to the hospital. She immediately went to the subway to arm herself and collect supplies before deciding to move her things to a different safe house. She was sick of sitting around and waiting for an opportunity to strike against Samaritan. Harold and John were too passive, and Root had been taken out of play, maybe permanently. This left Shaw to bring the fight to Greer, and she was more motivated than ever. If his plan was to push her over the edge, it certainly succeeded.

 

She began laying out plans to resume attracting and eliminating Samaritan's agents one at a time. Root had convinced her to stop when they reunited in the park, but it was well past time to continue the hunt. Shaw pulled her black cap over her head and left the safe house. It took her a few minutes to find her mark: a CCTV camera near a section of the shadow map. She stood before it and removed her cap, staring defiantly at the lens.

 

“I know you're watching. I'm coming for every last one of you.” She seethed, anger close to the surface, “I've got your number, Greer, you piece of shit. Trust me when I say you're going to be the victim. You wont get away with this.”

 

She took the gun from her waistband and shot the camera before disappearing in the shadows.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

Hours turned into days, and those days became weeks.  Over one month had gone by and Shaw still hadn't come back. Root was beginning to think she never would. She understood that Shaw felt responsible for what happened, which is why she was somewhat rogue at the moment, according to Harold. Shaw had taken some supplies from the subway and began tracking down Samaritan operatives, from what she heard. Root was given a phone as her new implant was not yet installed and her attempts to communicate were met with quick, few word responses. John assured her that Shaw would come around, and that he would be looking out for her in the meantime. Root had no choice but to believe him.

 

Eventually she began her physical therapy. Once her abdomen was healed enough to allow for movement, the doctors began to discuss options for repairing her knee. The damage had been extreme and although everyone tried to remain positive, Root was starting to lose hope. She continued to work on regaining her strength but she wasn't used to such a long and arduous road. Not having the Machine safely in her ear yet, and Shaw being AWOL was making her feel isolated, bringing her back to her lowest point: when Shaw was in the hands of Samaritan.

 

She returned from a particularly difficult session to find Harold waiting outside her room. They regarded each other for a moment before Root gestured towards the door. He opened it and she wheeled herself through. Root had refused the nurses offer to push her wheelchair back, saying that she should keep up her upper body strength as well. It's what Shaw would have done, she figured.

 

“Miss Groves, how are you?” He started, sympathy clear in his voice.

 

They speak for some time. He keeps her updated on the progress they've made with numbers, as well as anything information he has regarding Shaw. Something about hearing her tear a path to Samaritan made her heart hurt with longing. Harold picked up on this and changed the subject, talking now about the new cochlear implant he and the Machine had finally secured. It could be installed soon, he told her. When a silence has fallen between the, Finch brings up a new topic.

 

“I spoke with your doctor. Your physical therapy is going well, I hear. I suspect you'll heal nicely.” She doesn't reply, so he continues, “I didn't do much after my own accident, but with the care you're receiving, the... outcome will be different for you.”

 

Root hummed in response, “you mean we wont have matching limps?”

 

Finch smiled, “no, I suppose not.”

 

There remains a strangeness in the air, and Root is too exhausted for games. “Anything you need from me, Harry?”

 

He hesitates before meeting her eyes. “I want to apologize to you.”

 

“For?”

 

“I had... suspicions that you may have been manipulated into working with Samaritan. I brought this up to Miss Shaw before she left for the pier. I fear her being distracted may have contributed to your accident.”

 

Root narrowed her eyes at him. “You think I'm working for Samaritan?”

 

“Please understand me, Miss Groves. I know your faith in the Machine is unyielding...”

 

“And yet you thought I betrayed Her? And you?”

 

“I made a error,” he stammered uncomfortably. “I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

 

Root looked to him with disdain, “You're unbelievable. After everything I've done for you _and_ the Machine,” she laughed, though there was no humor. “You still don't trust me.”

 

His eyes were filled with guilt and embarrassment. Root was hurt that he still felt this way towards her, but sadly she was not surprised. She would die for the Machine and for Harold and he didn't even realize it.

 

“I think you should leave,” she said, looking away from him.

 

Finch nodded solemnly, rising from his seat. He paused before leaving, drawing a small USB drive from his pocket and holding it out to Root. When she didn't move to grab it, he placed it on the table next to her bed.

 

“It's from the Machine,” with that, he finally stepped from the room.

 

Once she was left alone, she could no longer contain her emotions. A sob shook her whole body and she practically doubled over, head in hands. Tears flowed as the feeling of being completely alone was close to consuming her whole heart. Harold thought her a trader, the Machine couldn't protect her, and Shaw didn't want to be anywhere near her. Root wasn't sure if she possessed the strength or the motivation to go on. Everything compounding was too much to bear.

 

Her phone on the bedside table buzzed, pulling her from her despairing thoughts. She took a second to get her sobbing under control before she wheeled to the table and checking the message:

 

VIEW THE DRIVE.

 

Sighing, she grabbed it from the table, and wheeled herself closer to her bed where her laptop lay. Plugging in the drive, it opened to reveal several .avi files and not much else. Truthfully, she didn't know what to expect anyway. Her mind and body were both too drained for this. She selected the first file and pressed play.

 

It's security footage from the hospital's physical therapy ward. If the Machine thought that Root wanted to watch herself try (and fail) to hold herself upright and take a few steps, there definitely were more bugs for Harold to work out.  Soon, the feed switched to another angle just outside the room. Root gasped and leaned closer to the screen when she recognized the person standing guard.

 

Shaw had been there during her session, observing from the sidelines.  Root felt a warmth growing from within her as she watched. Shaw was keeping tabs on her recovery.  For all the bravado about not caring, or claiming that she couldn't be near Root because it was 'too dangerous', Shaw still watched over her like a guardian angel.

 

“More like a gargoyle...” Root said aloud, laughing at the comparison.

 

The drive contained many more video clips, which she assumed would reveal that Shaw had been with her the whole time, even if Root wasn't aware of it. She wiped tears that had fallen down her cheek, and her phone buzzed again.

 

I DID NOT PROTECT YOU. I AM SORRY.

 

“I know you tried to.”

 

After a beat, the phone buzzed again: I WILL WATCH OVER HER. JUST AS SHE WATCHES OVER YOU. I PROMISE.

 

She smiled and closed the laptop, a new found hope encouraging her heart. Perhaps the road to her recovery wouldn't be as lonely as she thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last chapter to be completed and as a result I realize it might seem a tad rushed. But I hope it was to your liking regardless! The next two are definitely my favorite.
> 
> Have a great weekend!


	6. Taking a Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root reaches out to Shaw.

 

3 months later

 

Root sat in a wheelchair by the couch in her apartment with her computer resting on her lap. Her physical therapy was going well however, she was confined to the chair and given strict instructions on her other movements: they were to be assisted by crutches or a cane until further notice. Otherwise she was recovering nicely. A new cochlear implant was installed and she and Harold were confident that she would remain protected this time. As well, her abdomen had healed, leaving yet another white scar on her skin.

 

The one aspect of her life that wasn't quite back to normal was Shaw. Although she eventually returned to her side in the hospital, her visits were brief and cold. By Root's count, it had almost been another month since she saw her in person. Of course she continued to receive updates from the boys, and spoke with Shaw via SMS, but it's not like Root could exactly follow her around anymore. Watching her through patchy security footage just wasn't cutting it anymore.  No matter how she tried to convince Shaw that the injury wasn't her fault, she didn't seem to hear it. Shaw was awfully stubborn in that regard, but Root could be pretty stubborn, too, and was determined to get things back to their normal. Especially after learning that Shaw had been keeping an eye on her.

 

Working on her computer, she was researching any technological advancements in knee surgery, and was confident that she and the Machine were close to finding a solution for her mobility. She pushed her glasses higher on her face and bookmarked a particularly promising trial when she heard a noise behind the door. Placing her laptop down, she began to reach for her gun when she heard keys jingling on the other side. She relaxed slightly and wheeled towards the door, receiving a pleasant surprise when Shaw stepped through, followed by Bear.

 

“Sameen,” Root said, captivated by the sight of her. She looked the same as always, but there was a roughness to her. Root could also see a cut under her eye that looked somewhat fresh. Had her nose been recently broken, too?

 

“Oh,” she began, placing her shoulder bag on the counter, “I didn't think you'd be home.”

 

“I can't exactly go anywhere,” Root replied playfully. Shaw simply stood about awkwardly, Bear already taken residence on the couch.

 

“Finch asked me to drop this computer off for you.”

 

Root nodded and paused, “is that the only reason you came by?”

 

Shaw finally looked at Root with a sort of sad guilt in her eyes. Last time they connected was when Root was still in the hospital, and Shaw promised her that she was going to make Samaritan pay for the accident.

 

“I'm heading out of town for a while.” Shaw said suddenly, “to take care of some... things.”

 

Some “things” meant hunting down Samaritan operatives, she was certain. Root had been without Shaw for long enough, and wasn't about to let her just walk away.

 

“Shaw, I know what you're doing.” Shaw blinked and kept her stare forward, “you think that by creating distance between us, you can keep me safe. I hate to break it to you, but our line of work is never going to be safe. For either of us.”

 

“I'm not having his conversation with you.”

 

“I understand that you're scared, Shaw. I am too. Do you think it's easy for me to constantly hear your odds of survival buzzing in my ear? Do you even realize how _low_ they are?”

 

Shaw had enough and her face momentarily twisted into a snarl before she made to pull the door open. “I'm leaving.”

 

Well now that just wouldn't do.  Root had to take drastic action.

 

“Wait!” She suddenly pushed herself up from the wheelchair, standing upright for the first time unassisted. Standing so quickly made her head spin and she had to wait several seconds for the dark spots to clear from her vision, nausea threatening to send her back downwards.

 

When her sights cleared, she could see Shaw starting at her with hard eyes. One concern that has always been a constant for Shaw has been Root's personal health, seeing her jeopardize her recovery was enough to get her attention. Shaw stood still by the door. Sharp pain throbbed from Root's knee, radiating up and down her leg, but she ignored it and held Shaw's gaze.

 

“Root, sit back down,” Shaw ordered.

 

“No.”

 

“Root.” she said, more sternly this time.

 

“Shaw, you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened.” Root took a shaky step forward, Shaw watched her carefully. “Samaritan caused this, not you.”

 

Each step caused pain so intense Root could barely get the words out. She could feel herself perspiring from the efforts, but her resolve was strong. Shaw seemed to give in slightly.

 

“After everything they did trying to get me to kill you...” Shaw began, clearly having trouble expressing herself. She sighed, “Root, this was too close. And this is actually real.”

 

Root took deep breaths and shuffled forward again.  Shaw gave her a warning look.

 

“It's not like it's the first time you've shot me, sweetie.  Nice to see you actually follow through with your threats.” Root shrugged, trying to elicit a lighter reaction from Shaw, but she continued to stare with darkness clouding her. “Sorry.  Look, you made a mistake. It's okay. You're not a robot, Sam.”

 

“It's not right.” Shaw sighed and crossed her arms while Root gritted her teeth trying to remain upright.

 

“What's not right?”

 

“Everything,” Shaw gestured with her hand to nothing in particular. “This _thing_ between us, whatever it is, it's not fair to you anymore, Root. The accident made me realize that you deserve someone... normal.”

 

“Says who?” Root breathed out a laugh.  Was that what this mess was about?  “Sameen Shaw, you are absolutely beautiful.  On the inside and _especially_ on the outside.” Shaw looked away, and Root smiled at her with all the warmth in her heart. “You're you. And you're perfect. I would never ask you to be anything else.  I thought you knew that.”

 

Root reached her hand out to steady herself on the counter, but must have misjudged the distance and tumbled forward onto her knees. White hot pain shot from her leg all the way across her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remain still until her heart stopped pounding. When she opened them again, Shaw was kneeling in front of her, steadying her shoulders, looking at her with softer eyes.

 

Root didn't say anything. Perhaps she was lightheaded from standing and falling so suddenly, or perhaps she was simply too taken by the woman before her. Over nine months spent wondering if she would ever lay eyes upon her again. Having to suffer through Shaw keeping herself away on purpose the last few months was more difficult than she imagined. She didn't want to spend one more day without seeing her face. Root reached up and held Shaw's arm.

 

Shaw remained silent as well. She released Root's shoulders and reached up, slowly pulling the glasses from her face, placing them on the floor. Shaw brought her hands to Root once more, brushing some hair from her face, letting her hand linger. Root held her stare. Though she yearned to close the distance between them, she felt Shaw needed to work through this at her own pace.

 

They looked to each other for a long moment, Root enthralled by Shaw's dark eyes. She could spend eternity looking within them and still not be able to comprehend their beauty. Shaw inched closer and closer, and Root finally shut her eyes as their lips met. It was an expression of the words Shaw couldn't find, and the emotions she thought she was incapable of. Root opened her mouth to allow more access and Shaw's tongue mingling with her own sent a shiver up her spine. She breathed out a whimper as they parted, though Shaw still held her close, their foreheads nearly touching.

 

Several minutes passed as they sat holding one another in close proximity. Shaw finally spoke, her voice quiet. “I'm sorry I hurt you.”

 

“I forgive you,” Root replied, her eyes still closed. A smirk slowly formed across her lips, “and I can't wait to think of how you can make it up to me.”

 

Shaw pulled her head back slightly, Root opened her eyes and was met with a stern expression. “Root, I'm serious.”

 

“So am I,” her smirk broke out into a grin.  She couldn't help herself, after all.  Root fought the urge to make a comment about being 'weak in the knees', thinking that perhaps it was too soon for that.  Shaw rolled her eyes.

 

Shaw scooped Root up in her arms and stood slowly while Root clung to her.  She paused before carefully lowering her back onto the wheelchair.  Turning back to pick up the glasses, Shaw then knelt in front of her and placed them back on Root's face, caress her hair again.

 

Root hoped that Shaw's tenderness was an indication of her on the path to forgiving herself for what happened. Once her heart was at ease, they could return to the war together, making sure Samaritan paid for everything it's done.  Root felt lucky to love such an extraordinary woman, and to be loved in return.  Though completely unconventional, she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.  And she had a feeling Shaw felt the same way.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning Shaw found herself laying awake on Root's couch, Bear at her feet. She thought about how her plans for hunting down Samaritan would have to be put on hold (again) while she helped Root heal. She understands now that distance was the wrong play, and that the two are stronger together. She's mentally scolded herself for having forgot that but thankfully Root had forgiven her. She got up and dressed for her run, choosing her old black cap over the Islander's for today, while Bear stood anxiously by the door. She knelt down to address him.

 

“Not today, buddy. Sorry,” she scratched behind his ears. “Do me a favor and look after her while I'm out, will you?”

 

Bear quietly barked in response. “That's my boy. _Gaan_ ,” she gestured towards the bedroom and he bounded away, hopefully careful of Root's injury. Shaw set her watch and stepped out to run.

 

When she finished and was circling back to Root's place, Shaw decided to stop before a CCTV camera once again, making sure it was one close to a shadow zone. She set 15 seconds on her watch, removed her hat and looked up, certain that alarms had already begun to blare at Samaritan HQ.

 

“You failed again, old man. Looks like your computer is 0-2 against me. And guess what?  I'm still coming for you. But this time, I wont be alone.”

 

Her watched beeped indicating her time expired and she flipped the camera off before jogging into the shadows. Hiding her identity once more, she started back towards Root's place: towards home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I read this over I always forget that Root is wearing glasses even though _I'm the one that decided she would_. Way to go, attention span. Sheesh.
> 
> I hope this made you smile!


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end! It's a bit on the short side, but I like to think that it's open enough for our imagination to blossom further :D and the only reason chapter 6 wasn't the last was because I wanted to throw in this action sequence (with a hint of fluff).
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

One month later.

 

 

Shaw woke with a start and quickly realized she couldn't see anything around her. Her hands were bound with tape and the small space she occupied appeared to be shaking. Between the stale air, musty smell, and total darkness, Shaw concluded that she was in the trunk of a car. Shaking her head free of any cobwebs, both literal and figurative, she lifted her tied hands up to tap her earpiece.

 

“Root?”

 

“ _There you are, sweetie_ ,” Root's dulcet voice couldn't be more calm, “ _how's it hanging?_ ”

 

“Just great,” she replied, taking the tape between her teeth and pulling, “you gonna get me out of here or what?”

 

“ _Patience, Sameen. We have your location, but this is going to require some action heroics. You up for a challenge?_ ” Shaw made a 'tsk' noise in response. “ _I'll take that as a yes. You're in a newer vehicle so you should be able to pull the lever to open it from inside._ ”

 

Shaw found the handle quickly and pulled it, before using her legs to open the trunk itself. She had to shut her eyes briefly as the change in light left her momentarily blinded. She was surprised to see several other cars around her traveling at high speeds.

 

“Uh, we're on the freeway?” She said, trying to figure out how Root planned on getting her out of this mess.

 

“ _Yes. You're going to need to jump from the trunk in about ten seconds._ ”

 

“Of course I am,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe the impact will kill me before another car runs me over.”

 

“ _Six seconds._ ”

 

“For fuck sakes...” she sighed as she dove from the trunk and onto the pavement. Her hands and arms burned as she rolled several times before coming to a stop. Luckily, she was upright in time to see another car speeding towards her. She rolled to the shoulder against the railing as the driver blared the horn.

 

“Jesus Christ!” She groaned and examined her hands, the skin had scrapped away, blood bubbled and dripped down. It hurt like hell, but she couldn't relax just yet. “All right genius, what now?”

 

“ _No doubt your captors have realized what happened,_ ” as if on cue, the car previously housing Shaw had hit the brakes quickly. “ _I need you to jump from the railing in twenty seconds._ ”

 

Shaw laughed out loud, “into traffic? There are easier ways to kill myself. I would know.”

 

“ _Sameen, you know I don't like you joking about that._ ” Root's voice took on a serious quality before returning to it's regular playfulness with just a hint of urgency. “ _Don't you trust me?_ ”

 

“If I say no, do I still have to jump?”

 

“ _Five seconds. Make it count._ ”

 

Shaw quickly took a deep breath, waited the rest of the count and threw her legs over the railing. As she fell she realized how insane this whole situation was. Root must have her pretty whipped if she was jumping off a bridge onto a _highway_ just because she said so.

 

A silver car quickly appeared beneath her and Shaw stretched out, reaching for the open sunroof.  Her body slammed down into the car and the air was knocked from her lungs.  Unfortunately the speed must have been off, and the opening was just out of reach. She started to slide down the back of the car when Root appeared from the sunroof, grabbing onto her arm.

 

“Need a hand?” Root yelled over the wind. Her hair, though tied back, still whipped around due to the high speeds.

 

Shaw used her free hand to grab the opening of the roof and pull herself forward.  Root helped to keep her steady as she crawled face first into the car. Once inside, she saw Reese was driving.

 

“Nice landing,” he remarked.

 

Shaw grumbled as she righted herself in the seat, “Did you get it at least?”

 

“The file transfer was successful.” Root said as she sat down in the seat beside her. “I would apologize for letting you get kidnapped, but I very much enjoyed seeing you fly, Sameen.”

 

Shaw leaned back in the seat, Root placed a towel in her bloody hands.

 

“That was bat shit,” Shaw sighed after a moment, “I can't believe you made me do that.”

 

Root tilted her head and smiled, “what can I say, I know how to show my girl a good time.”

 

Shaw breathed out a laugh.  Who was she kidding?  That was _awesome_.

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

After receiving a (mostly) clean bill of health from Dr Enright, Shaw and Root both returned home for a night off. Shaw's hands and wrists were sufficiently numbed and bandaged, and her right arm rested in a sling. Dr Enright told her she was lucky to have only dislocated her shoulder in the fall. Root was relaxing on the couch with an ice pack over to her knee and her computer in her lap.  No doubt working to comb through the information they intercepted earlier today.  Shaw could see the metal prongs in Root's skin, helping to keep her limb stable during motion.

 

The Machine had located a doctor in New York that was doing a trial on knee replacements and Root had gone in for surgery last month, improving her mobility significantly. Root had to have a small metal brace implanted to help support her, and once the muscles and cartilage in the area regained strength it could be removed. She was expected to regain her range of motion up to 84%.  If she left the supports in, however, her mobility would increase to 92%.

 

Shaw turned on the television, content to sit next to Root while she worked. Though after a short while, the weight of Root's head fell upon her shoulder. Turning to see that she fallen asleep, Shaw took the computer from her lap and set it on the side table. Feeling worn out herself, Shaw stretched her free arm over Root's shoulder, reveling in the relaxed sigh that it produced from her.

 

She noticed Bear waiting at the foot of the couch and signaled for him to join. Without hesitation, he jumped up on the couch with them, settling with his head on Root's lap.

 

Tomorrow was uncertain, but today they were alive. 

 

More importantly, Shaw realized, they were together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, I appreciate the comments and support! I'll see you again soon (hopefully)


End file.
